


Answers

by DrummerDancer



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5670952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrummerDancer/pseuds/DrummerDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heat strikes some nerves with Kaiba.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Answers

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Kissing, touching

It’s hot outside, it’s hot inside, it’s hot everywhere—in Kaiba’s sleeves, inside his school jacket, under his _skin_ as he pushes Yami against his kitchen sink, feeling like a leech as he sucks Yami’s mouth dry of any words of argue. He doesn’t want to talk—just look, _touch,_ feel. Words are complicated; words are careless and slow things down.

 

Yami’s pushing against his chest, digging his fingers into the cotton shirt pulled taut over his chest. He wishes Yami would pinch his nipples, orbit his fingers around them like satellites, but no—that’s not what Yami does. Yami wants to talk, wants to take things slow, look him in the eyes like he’s a used car needing scrutiny—all the things Kaiba hates, hates because he’s not a festering wound, he doesn’t need coddling, he just wants a moment to let his mind go completely _blank_ and do what he wants, when he wants to.

 

Yami’s hands snake up to his earlobes—Kaiba smiles into the kiss, thinking, _hoping_ Yami’s finally got the right idea—until he feels a sharp yank on both of them, like somebody pulling a dog’s tail. He breaks the kiss and Yami’s breathes against his neck, winded.

 

“Kaiba…wait…wait a sec….” Yami’s clutching the sink behind him, fingers tensed against the ledge, sweat sticking like taffy to his collarbone.

 

Kaiba doesn’t wait; he’s not a man built to stay still. He bends down and grabs Yami by the back of his knees—seats him square on the sink ledge so his backside straddles either side of the sink divider. Yami yelps, and Kaiba takes that as his cue to close the distance again, this time pressing his hips close, close enough to feel between Yami’s legs. Feel the warmth Yami’s trying to hide.

 

The window over the sink is open, curtains still from no air flow. How easy it would be for Kaiba to reach around and tie Yami’s hands backwards so he could explore his skin to his desire. But Yami hates being restrained—this much force has already upset him, agitated him because Kaiba’s got size advantage, and Kaiba should really slow down and breathe for a second…

 

But Yami—his face, his body, the taste of his tongue fighting his—all of it strikes a nerve, repeatedly, over and back again. His common etiquette is overruled when Yami’s around, overwhelmed by an unsurpressable urge to exhaust his opponent in all things, fight or otherwise. Why hasn’t Yami figured this out? Why does he so foolishly enter Kaiba’s domain, again and again? The answer is here somewhere, somewhere on Yami’s salty skin, if he can only find it for himself—

 

Outside, one of the KC limos pulls up to the driveway, and Kaiba hears Mokuba bounding out before it has even had a chance to park. He lets go of Yami, who hazardly straightens his clothes, and leaves for the front door. The answer will have to wait another day.


End file.
